


Reasons

by honeydeww12



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 90s AU, AU, Depressed Steve, Gender Neutral, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Man 1, Love, M/M, Protector Steve, Self Harm, Silly Tony, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony laughs at the word gender norms, can i just say this was written from 3 am to 4 am and was not edited at all, faul language Rogers, it's mostly the F word, make up wearing Tony, mention of self harm, roller skating, young Tony and Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 06:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeydeww12/pseuds/honeydeww12
Summary: Steve understood from a very young age that everything happened for a reason. He stopped believing in that after the ice. He began again when he met Tony.





	Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story to take my mind off of things. I wanted to write something without putting a lot of pressure on myself and to just enjoy the process. I hope you enjoy it too. My TV fans out there might see some parts that were heavily inspired by Euphoria and Sharp Objects!
> 
> Please Read the tags before reading this fic and let me know if I need to tag anything!
> 
> Thank you <3

What is to be done is done. Things happen for a reason. This is certain.  
Somewhat.  
Steve grew up attending church with his mother every Sunday. He sat in the fourth pew, 2 pews in front of Bucky and his large family. The priest would say over and over;  
“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose”  
-Romans 8:28  
“For all things are for your sakes, so that the grace which is spreading to more and more people may cause the giving of thanks to abound to the glory of God  
-2 Corinthians 4:15  
“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven–”  
-Ecclesiastes 3:1  
What is to be done is done. Things happen for a reason. This is certain.  
Steve grew up understanding that he had some type of purpose in this unforgiving world. That the reason why he was so sick, the reason why he would not die, was for a reason he could not comprehend and kept his faith with the Lord as his mother told him. Even when she passed on.  
Everything. Happens. For. A. Reason.  
He kept this mantra in his head, during the good times, during the dark times, during the incredibly dark times, during the ice.  
Steve does not remember his time in the ice.  
Obviously.  
If he could, he’s sure that his own subconscious would’ve suppressed the memories of being in the dark cold solitude. Nobody asked him if he did remember though. Nobody could get a word out of him in the first couple of months he was awake, so there wasn’t really a time to ask. After he began speaking, it had already been enough time that it would’ve been considered incredibly rude and insensitive, so that curious person should just shut the fuck up and turn around.  
He does have dreams though.  
Of dark. And cold. And water. And Ice.  
Everything. Happens. For. A. Reason.  
Bullshit.  
Sometimes Steve thinks if it was really a great idea for him to join the army. To be Captain America.  
He wanted to save people.  
His purpose. He had a purpose and Captain America was proof.  
But.  
Steve spent his first month awake in SHEILDS solitude. He was fed bland food and drank water. He slept hoping it was a dream.  
His second month he was led outside and taken out to a restaurant by a few of the SHEILDS Agents. Agent Coulson, Agent Romanoff, and Nick Fury himself. They ate sandwiches and people watched. The outing lasted 45 minutes. During that time Steve had scribbled on a napkin a request for a sketchbook and pens and pushed it towards Agent Romanoff. They hadn’t realized that Steve’s blank stares where him actually observing everything around him.  
That evening Steve spent it drawing everything he could remember from that outing. The next day he was out of his room, people watching again. He stepped outside and watched. He walked a few blocks away from their building and watched. He sat on a bench and watched.  
Agent Romanoff found him and officially introduced herself. Natasha.  
She asked if he wanted to stay here.  
Steve really hates that the first thing he willingly said to a person in the future was a croaky, watery  
“No”  
They ended up moving him into an apartment a few doors down from another agent, Clint. Clint and Natasha resided together, however, Natasha claimed that she really didn’t live there because she was always on missions. She managed to eat breakfast with Steve every day though and all three of them had dinner together.  
Steve spent his days outside his apartment drawing on the little balcony of his apartment. He had already accumulated over one hundred sketchbooks and kept on requesting more. He also had a weird love of plants. They think it’s because New York these days didn’t have a lot of trees and it sucked the life out of you. Eventually, Nick ended up getting tired of all the requests Steve was making and forced Clint to teach Steve how to get up, walk to the store down the street and buy his own shit.  
The first outing wasn’t that awkward. Everyone assumed he was probably “slow” (which is what the old lady behind the counter whispered to another). Nobody corrected them, and at least they were extra nice to him when he went out by himself the first couple of times.  
Steve didn’t go crazy when he was first given money. He didn’t know what to do with it. He never had money before. He slowly got comfortable though.  
He…sort of.. Had to.  
It was either that…or die really.  
And you know ...Steve thought about it.  
At night. When no one was watching him. He could’ve just...Done it quickly. Knew how. Quiet. Alone. Quick.  
It was later admitted to him that that’s what a certain person would’ve done. Off’d himself. All of his loved ones ...Gone?

Jesus Christ. 

Funnily enough, that’s why Steve didn’t do it.  
Not cuz of the person. Not yet.  
Cuz…God…and Jesus Christ. Said no.  
No.  
Christ, Steve hated that word.  
No.  
Fuck you.  
Stops you from getting anything done.  
Steve ended up getting an emotional support cat. One day, Natasha knocked on his door and was holding a cat. When Steve continued to stare and didn’t sneeze she handed the cat over and put some cat toys, bed, and food into his entryway.  
He had to look up what a support animal was. What made the cat…So special?  
Honestly to this day he still doesn’t know. It is nice, however, when Furn sleeps on his chest by his neck. It isn’t so cold at night.  
Things got slowly better. Furn helped. Natasha and Clint helped. Drawing helped.  
However, he still couldn’t wrap this thing around his head.  
Everything. Happens. For. A. Reason.  
Because did it? Did everything actually have a reason for it to happen? Did things go and make sense in the end? Because this did not make sense. This sucked. This hurt. This was betrayal and sadness and cold and lonely and if Furn wasn’t there letting him hold him tight as Steve cried silently into his fur he would’ve…who knows. He doesn’t want to think about it.  
Let’s just say he didn’t want to do anything “stupid” with Furn there.  
Was this his life now though?  
For Furn?  
He didn’t mind too much because he loved Furn.  
But there were no missions, no saving the day, no best friends, or churches that made sense.  
It was overwhelming. It was lonely.  
And he began to believe that No. Not  
Everything. Happened. For. A. Reason.  
Until he met Tony.

*****

Steve woke up on September 5, 1991. 

He met Tony on February 2, 1992.  
It wasn’t the first mission he had been on since waking up. More like his twelfth or fifteenth, he sort of lost count. It was below twenty though. Natasha had recruited him after realizing that he was beginning to draw the same rock for the eighth hundred time. Now Steve didn’t expect for the constant rain cloud looming over his head to finally disappear when he stepped onto the field, but when it didn’t happen, he had to admit he was…really disappointed. 

This was something he used to do. Something that used to make him feel like he had a purpose. Like there was a reason for him to be here at this time at this space doing this thing.  
But nope.  
To be honest, if Steve had to describe this moment in his life, he would say that he felt like a doll. Or an action figure if you will. An action figure that was so well loved and that was being passed around and talked about and shown off, but never…given the time…to…get to know? Steve didn't have the right words for it. But he felt like this special thing and not a person. And he always felt like he was watching from above and not through his own eyes.  
Was he making sense?  
He appreciated Natasha though. She got him out in the only way she knew how, through her own work. And he didn’t know much about Natasha, but he knew that she, herself, didn’t get out much either and so didn’t blame her.  
Anyway, here he was, going through the motions like he always did. Fighting and punching bad guys trying to access data they weren’t supposed to have. Days blended together, then weeks. Then suddenly it was New Year's Eve and Steve knocked some racist fuckers teeth out as it hit midnight. When Clint suggested celebrating Steve politely declined and stayed in his room for three weeks.  
New Year.  
1992  
And this was his life.  
He was still living.  
Steve didn’t want to think.  
It was easy to sleep with Furn curled on his chest. 

On February 2, 1992, Steve was recruited for a mission concerning a bunch of old rich white men doing some illegal stuff, like laundering money and plotting murder. The usual stuff. Steve didn’t think much about it. He was the muscles of this group of theirs, not quite a leader anymore. He was just going to punch, kick, and get back to his cat. He was even going to attempt to read a book from this century. Super quick. In and out.  
But then. He saw him.  
A young, lith thing.  
Curly top on his head, loose cotton button-up shirt, and fitted blue jeans. He was sitting lazily on a swinging bench, swinging back and forth, in and out of the sprinklers that where watering the front lawn.  
He was drenched. The book he was reading was no better.  
Steve was still standing outside where the car was parked on the other side of the street, but he swore that little water droplets were sprinkled on top of the young man’s eyelashes making them sparkle.  
He was so beautiful.  
Steve never really had the chance to fall in love.  
Peggy. Now Peggy was confusing.  
She was this weird mixture between an annoying older sister and super sexy girlfriend. They kissed maybe once, and Steve had promised a dance with her right before he hit the ice.  
He didn’t like to think about Peggy much though.  
It was a reminder.  
Plus she had her own life. Her own family.  
Not with him.  
Steve didn’t think that was love, though.  
And he wasn’t saying that he INSTANTLY fell in love with this young man, but God did he have a crush on him.  
Like instantly he had a crush on him.  
How could you not?  
It was an abnormally hot winter day, the weather wasn’t freezing but still a bit cold, and the young man should’ve been wearing at least a light jacket. Should’ve been covered up inside with his book and maybe a hot chocolate. Maybe some tea.  
Shouldn’t have been sitting outside on a swinging bench  
Swinging into water  
Where he could possibly freeze  
“Hey!”  
Steve didn’t know how the young man could look both startled and calm and collected at the same time. He looked over at him, still swinging, a puzzled look on his face.  
“Yes?”  
Steve was stunned for a bit. This was the first conversation he started willingly since…  
“Shouldn’t you be inside? It’s pretty cold!” He shouted  
The young man smirked and let out a small chuckle. God, he was cute.  
“Why you worried about me, sir?”  
He was still swinging, in and out of the sprinklers.  
“I’m not a sir…Captain actually”  
The young man smiled wider and giggled.  
Steve smiled back.  
“Captain huh? Well Cap, Got a name I can say with that?”  
Steve opened his mouth to tell him but was interrupted by a loud bang.  
“ANTHONY EDWARD GET INSIDE”  
The young man, Anthony, jumped up and rushed in, but not before giving Steve an apologetic smile. Slipping through the front door, another older man rushed out.  
“You! Who are you!?”  
The old man looked crazed. His thin glasses sliding down his narrow nose and his beady eyes squinting dangerously at Steve.  
“Uh…” Steve stumbled. “The..Bodyguard?”  
The mission.  
He had forgotten about that. The mission. The mission. 

“Rogers?!”  
Steve forgot how to swallow and nodded.  
“Uh. Yes, sir. That’d be me.”  
The older man gruffed and gave Steve a hard stare.  
“Well get inside then huh!?”  
Steve watched the older man walk into the house. The same house that held the young lithe beautiful man.  
Could it?…  
Would…  
Everything…happens.  
Steve shook his head. Blinked hard. Took a deep breath. Told himself, no. Pressed his com to his ear and muttered an “I’m going in” to Nat. And went inside. 

*****

Maria and Howard Stark were possibly never meant to have children. 

What is meant to be, was meant to be.  
What is not, is not.  
It was very hard for Maria to have children. Or at least keep a child alive. 

That wasn’t fair to say. Things happen and if they didn’t happen, why did they happen at all?  
When Maria was able to finally bring a child into the world, after countless miscarriages, it had apparently been born with so many difficulties that it never left the little box it was put into the moment they got out of the womb.  
Maria and Howard named them anyway.  
Arno.  
Poor little one lasted three and a half hours.  
Baby that made it out the second time lasted a little longer than a day.  
In fact, they lasted a week and actually gave them hope that maybe, with the right technology, they could save this one.  
However, poor little Gregory took his last breath during his feeding and died in his mother’s arms.  
They took a break after that.  
No more babies.  
Maria couldn’t bear it.  
Instead, both went their separate ways and dived into their work with as much fury and passion as one could after something you want not going your way happens. Howard began inventing and creating new machines and weapons, new possibilities to help people around the world, while Maria was working her charm and generosity and getting investors, working with charities, helping little ones she couldn’t have.  
Howard and Maria stayed very far away from children.  
And each other.  
Maria had her occasional photoshoot.  
Howard had his tours.  
But……  
A long, long time ago, once, they had both dreamed of two or three kids running through their lawn. The sprinklers running while they ran in and out yelling at each other and having fun. Maybe Howard would be in his study. Maybe Maria would be out there with them. Maybe a dog. Or a cat.  
Maybe their teenage daughter would be sitting on the lawn reading a magazine chewing gum.  
Maybe their son would be running with the dog shooting a toy gun at nothing.  
Maybe.  
Tennis. And vacations. Family trips. And dinners. Lounging on the couch together. And Christmas. Seeing them grow up. Getting too big to sit in between mom and dad in the pews at church. Drinking soda pop with their friends and riding bikes. Tennis shoes thrown around and messy unmade beds and prim and proper dresses and wrinkled slacks. Scuffed shoes and nail polish.  
Arguing. And crying. First loves. First dates. Dances. First cars and driving lessons.  
Once. Once they dreamed and thought as they laid together at night in their big empty home.  
Maybe. 

When Maria and Howard laid together it was the first time in a long, long time. Years had passed since their last child died and tonight, well, tonight they had gotten incredibly drunk. It was a gala they were both expected at, and they had played their game of husband and wife well. And with enough drinks and enough lies, you begin to believe anything. Even when it comes out of your own mouth.  
There was a reason Maria married Howard. There was a reason Howard married Maria.  
It was not like old times when they kissed. It was a battle. Fighting to rule.  
Anger. Passion. Lust.  
And.  
Third time’s a charm, right?  
They had trouble naming Tony right off the bate. Hadn’t planned on even giving him a name. Thought he would be dead. But then one week passed, then two, then a whole month. And one month turned into two, and in the middle of the third, it was getting ridiculous.  
Edwin Jarvis, the butler/war hero/full-time babysitter of Howard Stark and loving best friend insisted that they’d put their drunken minds together and think of a proper name for this proper child.  
It was hard though.  
Babies, out of the womb, are straight-up ugly.  
But Tony.  
Gosh, he was gorgeous.  
“Are you sure he’s a boy?” His father had asked looking at the long eyelashes and chubby cheeks.  
“He has a penis, Howard.”  
“But he’s pretty.”  
“He’s a baby, Howard.”  
They had decided on Anthony Edward for some reason. Edward because it sounded like Edwin without it being like Edwin, and Anthony because. Well.  
Tony was a cute nickname.  
Ever since he was little. He was always  
Tony, Tony, Tony.  
Little Tony. Pretty Tony. Cute little Tony.  
He’d sometimes be dressed up in little cute dresses and sometimes little suits. Wear cute bows with his dungarees. Wear a striped t-shirt with suspenders and a skirt with dirty little tennis shoes.  
Some people would whisper that they were “confusing him”. Forcing him to be something he wasn’t.  
Honestly though. He just looked cute in all clothing.  
If they were alive long enough to see Tony start to talk and understand, they would’ve explained that there was no rhyme nor reason as to why they did it. Why they had him wear dresses and suits. He looked good in them and that was that. And that as long as he was happy they would buy him whatever clothes he wanted.  
Unfortunately though, right before Tony’s third birthday, his parents were killed in a dreadful car accident. Leaving Tony with the butler.  
Tony turned four and asked Edwin Jarvis why there were pictures of him in both dresses and suits. What were his parents' intentions? Why did they want that? And Edwin Jarvis could not explain, as he did not know, but asked if he liked it or not. To that Tony crossed his arms and harrumphed, not liking that his question was deflected.  
“I don’t care what I wear, I just wanted to know WHY?! Why is ANYTHING, ANYTHING JARVIS? No one ever tells me WHY.”  
Jarvis, startled by the sudden outburst, stared at the chocolate brown eyes and pouting chubby cheeks and the little lips that were beginning to wobble.  
“Sometimes we don’t know why Tones. Sometimes things are because they are. Not everything has to have an answer or a reason, love.”  
Tony looked down at his socked feet and his wrinkled skirt.  
“So mom and dad had no reason. They just did what they did just because?”  
“Possibly so, yes.”  
They stayed staring at Tony’s feet for a while until Jarvis finally sat him on his lap and read him a long story about an Alice and a talking doorknob and an ice queen. 

*****

Steve did not put two and two together when he had officially met Yinsen and Tony. Nobody ever said the younger man's last name so he didn’t think it was obvious. He was also not around when all types of media were going crazy about him and posting “ THIS ONE MADE IT” as their headlines. (Tony has newspaper clippings of this one in many languages). No. When he got there, he assumed that these two were just caught in an unruly mess of things. Tony was Anthony still and Yinsen his proper guardian. They didn’t know about Captain America and things were fine.  
In and out.  
Punch a bad guy.  
Get home to Furn.  
And not dream of the awfully pretty boy and his totally see-through wet shirt clinging to his body.  
WOAHZA Hold up there.  
MISSION.  
Act as a bodyguard to both Yinsen and child (really young man). Make sure Yinsen and said young man are not killed while also investigating why they are being threatened in the first place. They claim to not have a reason, but there was always a reason. Always something fishy going on. Especially when SHEILD was concerned.  
He would be their bodyguard for a week or two. Get as much info as possible. Punch whoever the fuck was following them around.  
And leave.  
Have someone else take over. Because he was just the muscles. Not a spy. Not a leader. Just the muscles.  
……  
Let it be said, that Steve really had no idea that you could absolutely fall head over heals dumb fuck in love with someone in just a week and then want to marry them the second.  
It is not his fault.  
It is not Tony’s fault.  
Both were innocent bystanders in this whole situation.  
SHIELD could still fuck off with the whole, No, thing though.  
Fuck the word, No. 

*****

Steve loved Tony. Liked LOVED loved him. Like definitely was going to marry the guy once they were old enough and had money and all that. He didn’t need nor want SHEILDS permission. Part of Steve’s fantasy was whisking the great Tony Stark away and never looking back. But he knew with the company and everything, that he actually couldn’t do that. But one could dream.

And he’d dream a lot.  
He liked the idea that he protected Tony. Even if his “bodyguard” assignment was an undercover mission at first, he still liked the fact that he was the first person Tony would run to in case of a threat, and that he had the power to stop said threat. Sometimes he’d imagine himself protecting him in different scenarios. Like if he was walking back to his car in a garage from shopping at the mall. And he’d be in his white tank and loose jeans stained with grease and oil but still looking amazing with that makeup of his and the bizarre shoes. And some lonely old creep would get him.  
And in reality, Tony knows enough to fight his own way out. That creep wouldn’t stand a chance.  
But in Steve’s dream, where everything went his way, he’d save him.  
After an actual kidnapping situation though, Steve doesn’t like to think of that anymore.  
He does, however, like to think of the ways he’d save Tony.  
And how’d he take care of him.  
He really hopes he never has to save him for real though.  
Steve has. A LOT. Of confusing thoughts.  
Tony makes them better though.  
He quiets them down with soft kisses and long hugs.  
They both can’t explain it  
But there’s something about each other that makes everything about loving someone sort of. Easy.  
They’re easy to talk to.  
Easy to be with.  
Easy to trust.  
And yeah. Maybe it’s because it’s “young love” and it’s the first relationship both Steve and Tony had ever really been in.  
But it was still something that neither of them wanted to end quickly.  
Tony had spoken about it once when they were both lying in bed shirtless gazing at some stars through the window. Steve remembers he was comfortable and wearing borrowed pajama pants and cuddling in the blankets, and Tony still had some glitter on his eyelids.  
Steve had let him talk. He liked to listen to Tony ramble. But then he said  
“If anything…where to not go right for us. Like ...If this love between us ended. Can you promise me, please, that’d you still be my friend? I know that’s a lot to ask. And you don’t even need to be my best friend. And you can go hiking in the desert if you need to be apart from me. But please promise me now that you’d still be my friend.”  
Steve had stared into those glittery eyes and caressed Tony’s cheek.  
“Tony, I don’t think we need to worry about that. Because I don’t know if I will ever stop loving you.”

Later in the years, after they’ve had the many huge blowouts, breaks, attempts, another break, and then officially finally get back together and stay together, they will both realize that throughout it all, they never really promised each other to stay friends. And they’re really happy they didn’t force that upon themselves in a weird way. That they didn’t give themselves that expectation.  
They did, however, still loved each other. Throughout everything.  
And they totally wanted to make a DIS at the people who'd didn't think they’d last at their wedding.  
And after their first kid.  
And DEFINITELY after their second.  
And after that one huge move of house that literally could’ve split their family apart.  
And after that intense game of monopoly.  
But they didn’t.  
Something about being the bigger person.  
Neither of them knew this at the time of this story though. So let’s get back to that. 

*****

Steve was very, very tired. Which kind of sucks for someone who's supposed to be in their early twenties.  
Tony, being eighteen, always tried really hard to show him what it was like to be a “young adult” these days. How people still went to parties and clubs and dates, everything was just louder and full of more color. And grabbing a coffee and reading books in a quiet space was still cool, you just wore different clothes.  
And Steve really enjoyed it. He enjoyed being dressed up to look like a 90s guy. And he enjoyed listening to the music with Tony and trying different foods with Nat and being wild with Clint. He really really did.  
But Steve ...Well  
“I’m fucking exhausted.”  
Fury had given him an incredulous look.  
“What do you mean ”fucking exhausted? As far as I know, you hardly do anything.“  
Steve had slouched further into his chair. He hated when Fury did this. He asked what was wrong in the weirdest way and Steve would answer after deciphering the danm question. And Fury always gave him the shittiest answers.  
“You asked.” He replied.  
Fury sighed into his coffee.  
“Why are you fucking exhausted, Steve?”  
Steve thought of all the things. How he didn’t sleep at night despite having Furn there. How he always felt COLD even with the heated blanket and the heater and the no air-con and hot tea. How his thoughts always swarmed and kept him up and made him want to puke.  
He was so fucking tired.  
So so fucking tired.  
And he wanted to just fall asleep and never wake up, ever.  
But he couldn’t. Because falling asleep for a long time made him think of…  
Steve just stared up at Fury from where he was sitting. Eyes small, slouch heavy. Steve didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel valuable. He didn’t feel alive.  
Fury stared back, searching his face as he drank his coffee and leaned further back against the kitchen counter.  
“I don’t think that boy is good for you” he finally said.  
“He’s the only good thing about this time”  
“He’s not good for you.”  
“How would you know??”  
“You’ll find better things”  
“Sure as fuck I will”  
“Oh don’t be spoiled.”  
Steve shot up at that, knocking his chair over.  
“Spoiled? You think I’m fucking spoiled because I like one thing about this time?! One! ONE GOOD THING and you want me to drop it. Fuck you, Nick, I don’t need you parenting me.”  
“Well, it seems like you do since you’re making stupid decisions!” he shouted back, still leaning.  
“I don’t need a father figure, Nick. I had a dad and he’s fucking gone and I don’t want a replacement. Don’t pretend like you fucking care. Or that you know me.”  
With that Steve left the room leaving Nick to pick up the mess in Steve’s wake. 

That evening Nick stopped by the debriefing room where Steve had resided. A cup of coffee on the table untouched and a sketchbook in his lap. Steve sat with his feet on the table boots off near his chair. His body seemed relaxed. But Nick could see the tension in his neck. The hard stare in his eyes.  
The exhaustion of his entire body.  
Nick plopped the folder he had been holding in front of Steve and sat next to him.  
Steve continued to focus on his drawings without giving Nick a second glance.  
Nick finally sighed and leaned back.  
“If you’re going to be seeing that kid you should at least know about him”  
Steve glared, “I'll ask him myself. I don’t need to go snooping.”  
Nick sighed harder  
“Just open the goddamn page Rogers.”  
After what seemed like a stare-off with a teenager that might last forever, Steve finally grunted and opened the file  
“Oh”  
Yes. Oh.  
Anthony Edward Stark was typed in bold letters at the top of the page. Below was his age, weight, blood type, ID number, social security number and parents names.  
“Oh indeed” Fury muttered.  
Steve read the file a little more, eyes hovering over the kid's picture. How much he resembled the cocky ass genius from back then. Who was a friend. Who helped. Who was now gone.  
“Is this some kind of joke?” Steve muttered, exhausted.  
Everything. Happens...  
Fury scooted closer to him, “There is a reason we are protecting him.”  
Steve straightened “And do you know..If he..If he knows?…about?…’bout?..”  
“Captain America? Unless you’ve told him.”  
Steve tensed more at that.  
“However,…if you are wanting to make this serious. I suggest you come clean.”  
To his surprise, Steve did not look at him with shock or start a fight or even denied him. He continued to stare at the file almost relieved and after another while, silently closed it.  
After a few more minutes Steve picked up his sketchbook and boots and left the room.  
“Thank you,” he had said in the doorway leaving Fury to sit alone.. With a loud sigh and a hand-rubbed across his face, Fury got up.  
“Twenty year olds” he muttered bitterly and left the room.

*****

Tony had already known that Steve was Captain America.  
Emphasis on the WAS.  
He grew up looking at the pictures of him and his dad. Anything to get more clues as to who Howard Stark was and what he was doing with the world. He saw so many Captain America pictures in his dad's old office. He saw even more of Steve Rogers in the diaries.  
His Dad may have had an obsession...  
When Tony finally got a look at him that one February day it clicked into place so quickly that Tony had to physically squint his eyes shut from the sudden realization. Steve and Yinsen had given him strange looks but he had brushed them off. 

He decided to tell Steve himself after two months. It was taking too long.  
“I know”  
He had said one night.  
They were on the bench barefoot swinging back and forth. The sprinklers were off for the night. And the air was chilly.  
“Bout what?” Steve had said lazily. Head lolling back taking in the breeze in his leather jacket.  
“Bout you” Tony answered back matching Steve’s accent. It was cute, how he went all Brooklyn on him. And only him.  
“Don’t know what ya talkin bout” Was all he said, eyes closed.  
Tony, never one to doubt himself really, pulled out a newspaper clipping from one of his father's diaries. And cleared his throat.  
Steve opened one eye, then the other and stared. He stared for a long time. He never once took the clipping.  
“I’m…he’s my uncle.” He said, closing his eyes again.  
Tony scoffed, “Oh c’ mon Steve.”  
“No really. Stever Rogers is my uncle.”  
“Steve…for real.”  
Tony was sitting up now stopping the motion of the swing, staring at those closed eyes, the soft pale face, the dark circles. 

Steve opened his tired eyes and stared at Tony.  
He looked so…  
Like a man out of his time.  
“Are you okay?” Tony asked quietly. So quietly it almost got lost amongst the wind and the crickets.  
Steve continued to stare at Tony some more, expression unreadable. Tony stared back, searching.  
The tired eyes closed again and scrunched up, forcing something to stay inside, and finally, after an eternity, shook his head, no.  
Tony deflated at the poor site and curled back into Steve, cuddling close and providing more warmth.  
“Please don’t tell anyone” Steve whispered, swinging back in motion.  
“Not a soul” Tony replied, holding Steve’s hand now. Hell if he was letting go.  
Noone had asked Steve if he was okay. They made sure he was okay, but nobody ever asked. Tony asked. And he asked again once and twice and three times more that night until Steve broke down crying, telling him everything. Everything that was on his mind.  
He left parts out, it’s hard to get everything in. All those details.  
But he told him of what he missed and how it was hard and what people expected of him and how he wasn’t that. How he was so tired. He was so so tired. And he just wanted to sleep, but rest never came.  
He was so tired, Tony. He was just so tired. And he missed his Ma.  
Tony had teared up and listened to every word. Told him he missed his Mama too. Missed his butler and even missed his dad. Listened to Steve and held him close in his bed until Steve went to sleep.  
That morning, Tony woke up first and watched Steve’s even breath. Let him sleep longer. And when Steve woke up with a fright, rambling about missing a morning run Tony shushed him and said he was twenty-two years old. And twenty-two year olds slept in on Saturdays still, no matter who they were.  
Steve had smiled and laid back down with Tony and watched him play weird video games on that big bulky gaming device cuddled in bed. 

A month later, he found out about Tony being a Stark. And asked why he never told him.  
Tony had looked at him with his head cocked to the side and replied.  
“I thought you knew.”  
“You did?”  
“Yeah, I thought it was obvious?”  
Steve had to laugh a little because it really was, wasn’t it?  
The way his hair flopped and his genius of a mind.  
He didn’t say anything when Tony laughed as well, saying  
“Who knows, maybe our meeting was meant to be!”

Everything..

*****

Tony knew who he was from a very early age.  
Different.  
From his abnormally high IQ to his fun makeup and shoes. To him being parentless. And beign bi-sexual. So.  
His life wasn’t terrible. Yeah, his parents died in a terrible death right before he turned four. And his father figure/butler/ guardian passed away from an awful cancer right before he graduated university at seventeen. But his life wasn’t terrible.  
It was pretty awesome actually.  
Tony was a genius. A genius and a billionaire.  
His father made weapons for a living and had made just enough that they sold continuously and since Tony was heir to the company, the money went to him and Jarvis. Not to mention the money he earned from the large amount of work he sold to his own company under an anonymous alias since he was twelve.  
Tony’s childhood was strange, yes, but still, if he has anything to say about it, was fairly normal.  
Yeah, he was a genius and skipped half of elementary school and all of middle school and only spent two years in high school. And yeah, he wore “weird” things like dresses and skirts sometimes and makeup and had bizarre platform shoes and bought his bags from different countries and he was essentially just “weird” to the rest of his peers. But he still had it pretty good.  
He remembers one Christmas when Jarvis had gotten him a bike. He was nine and honestly, given the right tools, he would’ve built one himself, but this one was special. It was a baby bright blue street bike. Nothing amazing. Normal brakes and adjustable seat for when he grew. Pedaled normally and could get him from point A to point B when Jarvis wasn’t around to take him anywhere.  
Tony had LOVED it. He never loved anything so much in his life that was an inanimate object and that was saying something.  
He took the bike out immediately, forgetting all his other presents. He remembers fondly how he was wearing his cow jump over the moon PJ top and some flowy shorts and purple glittery doc martens. Him and style, man.  
He immediately got on the bike and pushed off.  
Tony remembers how he immediately fell and almost cracked his head open.  
Jarvis liked to say he would blame Tony’s antics on that fall if he could. Because it was such a hard hit and the bump was huge. But Tony was still weird before and after. And after the ice packs and dried tears and some glitter applied to his cheeks he got back on the bike and Jarvis had taught him how to balance.  
“Slow down Tony. What am I always telling you? Hmm? Go slow”  
Go slow.  
Tony never really headed Jarvi’s advice.  
He was always fast.  
A fast thinker, fast decision-maker, fast at everything.  
He really should’ve headed Jarvis’s advice now.  
Steve was curled in on himself hyperventilating after Tony attempted to suck his dick.  
He didn’t even ask him. Didn’t ask if he would like it or if he wanted anything sexual. That was also another thing Jarvis said. “Always ask” Don’t just do.  
Silly boy.  
Silly…silly stupid Tony.  
Tony sighed knowing he definitely fucked up. Didn’t ask. Didn’t slow down. 

Sorry, Jarvis.  
Tony stayed a good distance away from Steve, allowing him to breathe for a sec as he clung to his crotch.  
Fuck.  
“Steve?…” Tony tried. He could feel his lips drying from the cheap lipstick he used earlier. Should’ve gone for a better brand. He licked his lips and watched the ex-soldier’s shoulders tremble. Maybe he should’ve gone bare face instead of his usual makeup. That usually threw some people for the loop.  
But Steve was used to his makeup. Said he liked it.  
“It’s so pretty,” He said one evening. The sun was setting and they had gone out and grabbed some cokes from a diner. Tony liked that date. It was simple. And he had worn a nice baby blue tank top tucked into high waisted jeans and a bulky belt. He wore his platform combat boots too, so he wouldn’t have to tiptoe.  
“What is?” Tony replied, pretending not to know what he was talking about.  
Steve smiled looking down. “The blue around your eyes. I like it with your pink lips.” And he kissed Tony.  
Breathless.  
Like mint.  
He had taken special care right before. Glued a star on the corner of his eyes and brushed the blue eyeshadow on his lids. Paired it with a nice pink pale shade for his lips. The eyeshadow and his shirt matched perfectly. He liked it.  
He was glad Steve liked it too.  
They had kissed for along time.  
Breathless. And mint.  
Long enough to know that Tony’s lipstick was ruined and smeared on both their faces.  
He had wondered what it would be like smeared across…  
He had thought it would be hot??…  
Fuucck. 

Steve was still breathing harshly, and Tony really thought he might have to grab Yinsen or call somebody, like that Natasha girl that always following them around.  
“Steve?” Tony called again trying one last effort. He slowly scooted towards the other, eyeing him just in case he bolted.  
“Steve I’m gonna sit right next to ya okay? Okay, sport?”  
Steve did nothing, so Tony sat. Steve in just his underwear, Tony in a tank.  
He reached his hand out and stretched his pinky towards Steve and kept his eyes on one of his posters on the wall. He started thinking about the green energy report Yinsen had been working on. The edits he still needed to make and the tech and blueprints that would be needed to get things done the right way. He was jolted out of his thoughts when another pinky wrapped itself around his.  
Tony didn’t know what to do and stayed still, still looking at the poster. He felt Steve lean his head on his shoulder.  
“I’m sorry” he muttered. Tony shook his head and cuddled into Steve’s hair, breathing in the Irish spring scent.  
They got up after a while and put their clothes back on. Tony made it a point to change the sheets, just white to white nothing fancy. They flopped on the bed once more and curled into each other. They fell asleep to the fan whirring above their heads.

*****

To let everyone know, Tony and Steve eventually had sex.  
It was hot and a lot. A lot of pent up tension and both had accidentally hurt the other not quite understanding the whole process. They claim that their third time in the beginning stage was the best. The twenty-eighth time in their early thirties was really really effing good. Their honeymoon sex sucked ass. And the sex they had right after Pepper’s wedding won amongst all past times. The competition was still continuing, it was just a bit hard having two kids.  
But,  
God, that night had been amazing.  
Like they wish you were there cuz Fuck. So hot.  
But after that night with the failed blowjob, both Steve and Tony were awkward for a bit.  
Tony had woken up to an empty bed, which never happened, and had learned that Steve went out for a morning run. “He always did” apparently. Tony made his way to the garage were him and Yinsen usually worked and began to tinker. His robots rolled around him, looking for things to do, and he drowned himself in whatever he could get his hands on.  
This lasted maybe a week before they both had their first sort of argument. Yinsen had been out of the house, thank God, because Tony would’ve died from embarrassment if he had heard him.  
They raised their voices a little both challenging each other because both men were blaming themselves for the situation that happened that night.  
“Why did [Tony] have to bring it up anyway?”  
“Because it obviously affected [Steve] in a negative way!”  
They ended up both crying on the floor of the living room declaring their love for each other, idiots, and kissed heatingly.  
They still didn’t do anything remotely sexual until four months later, when they awkwardly dry humped with their jeans on in the bed and it hurt like hell but they both still came.  
Natasha found out immediately that it was the first time Steve had come in…. A while.  
She eyed him under her long eyelashes as he walked in and out of SHIELDS kitchen. Just something about him seemed...  
“Did you turn into a man Rogers?” She muttered.  
Steve had spit out his orange juice and whirled around to meet her aloof gaze.  
“What?”  
“Did you fuck?”  
Steve hiccuped at her boldness and immediately turned red. Natasha knew deep down that he hadn’t had sex, she was just teasing. But the kid did do something different than what he usually got up to.  
If she could just put her finger on it.  
“Did you at least use protection?” She said, lazily eyeing the newspaper now, allowing Steve to squirm and glow as bright as a red traffic light.  
“N-nooO! Natasha!”  
“You didn’t have protection? Now Steve I know you’re new to this time, but even when having sex with male you have to use pro-”  
“NO NATASHA!! I DIDN’T HAVE-HAVE…I didn’t sleep with anyone like that!!!”  
It was cute. Like teasing a brother. A very very innocent little brother.  
Awh.  
Natasha enjoyed how Steve shut his eyes tight and stood rigged. He sometimes slouched to appear smaller, she noticed. He would hang his head low and hide behind her or Clint during debriefs or huge company meetings. He hated appearing like how he used to in the posters.  
Tall.  
And full of confidence.  
Of leadership.  
It’s not a bad thing to be, she wanted to tell him.  
He didn’t need to be Captain America, just, Steve. And Steve was a natural-born leader.  
Oh Well.  
“Well, then what DID you do?” She smirked. Steve still had his eyes shut tight. His body was trembling now from how tense he was. “Because you have done something. You can’t hide from me Steve”  
She sometimes worried at how easy it was to read him. Did he allow everyone to see him like this? The Stark kid was pretty quick to catch on to him as well.  
“We…We!…” Steve sighed and finally opened his eyes but stared up at the ceiling. “We just…you know..Fooled around. No…none of what yer saying Nat…just…just some foolin around.”  
Nat stared at him as he stared at the ceiling. Was he counting the light bulbs?  
They humped, she finally conquered and starting chuckling into her coffee mug. Steve’s head immediately shot down to look at her, his eyes ablaze.  
“What!?”  
Natasha laughed harder, he looked like a bug!  
“What Natasha?!” Steve stood at his full height, shoulders back, back completely straight. His voice was loud and strong and although his face was still beet red he didn’t look like the stumbling boy from two seconds ago.  
Lol. Seriously?  
Natasha laughed harder as Steve fumed and waved him off. “Oh, Calm Down Rogers. It’s funny. I haven’t laughed like this in a while! Hah, why are you always making me laugh like this? Ahhh…Was it good though? Did you enjoy yourself?”  
Steve’s whole big man composure faltered but he didn't morph back into his shyness.  
Interesting.  
“Yeah, …it was good.” He mumbled. Then smiled bright. His head didn’t hang and his back was still straight. “I enjoyed it. And I think… I’m pretty sure he did too.”  
Natasha giggled lightly and gave him a thumbs up. Steve then sat near her, trying to ask who she’s been with if she was with Clint or any other agents and hows she’s been. Natasha gave him dagger eyes and told him he’d never find out about her love life and spent the rest of their time together chatting about house plants and Furn. Throughout their conversation, Natasha couldn’t help but notice how Steve seemed to sit straighter every time he mentioned the Stark kid. Like Stark was the water that Steve needed in order to grow more into himself day by day. 

*****

Roller Skating.  
Despite it being during his time, that was something he just about missed.  
He was always too poor or sick and Bucky and he had found better things to do besides heading to the roller rink a good few miles away.  
When Tony suggested it though and showed up with two pairs of roller skates, he couldn’t resist. He always thought it was so cool to look at the guys on the magazines, looking like they were flying with their hands out to balance.  
He’d never seen it outside a type of rink though. And Tony.  
Tony made it look so easy.  
Steve had realized very early on that Tony liked to go fast.  
He rarely slowed down  
“Slow down Tony. Take a breath.”  
“That’s funny. My butler used to tell me that all the time.”  
They were all smiles as Tony glided effortlessly on the road in front of them, looping in wide zig-zag motions across the street.  
There had been some falls and fears once Steve tried, and he was hardly a natural like Tony said, but when he finally got the hang of it, man, it was fun.  
Steve often forgot he was supposed to be doing a job.  
But.  
It was summertime and he was still watching Tony. He still had a small gun behind his belt loop and a pocket knife in his pocket wherever he went. And that entire summer they would get on bikes or rollerblade to the nearest store, or even take the bus across town to catch a weird movie. And every time Steve would always be so careful with him. Always so overprotective. And if asked, he would say that, yes, it was for the job, but honestly. He just loved protecting Tony. He’d be a hero for him.  
Because Tony.  
Gosh, Tony was….  
Magical.  
But  
Real too.  
Steve knew of those books that portrayed the girl like some kind of dream character. Like a doll that was barely a person. She’d come in and change the guy and then once he was done with her, would leave and be better. Leaving her and her magic behind.  
No Tony. Tony was real real real.  
Steve could tell because of how smart his mouth was. How un-likable he could be but also be the sweetest person you would ever have met. How giving and stubborn he was. How he had just so many traits you couldn’t count because, duh, real person here.  
And with all the good normal real things about Tony, he also.  
He also had his own problems and his own bad dreams and triggers and thoughts.  
Tony.  
Tony didn’t do a great coping thing.  
He had assured Steve that he hadn’t done it in a while. That, if anything, was almost better since hanging out with him.  
But sometimes.  
Sometimes nights were just so bad, you know?  
“Whenever you feel this way Tones, I need you to call me, kay?” He had mumbled as he wrapped gauze after gauze along the other's wrist. 

Tony had chuckled drunkenly, playing with the now empty glass bottle on his left.  
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself Mr. Steve”  
Steve finished with Tony’s arm and gently patted his thigh to make sure the band-aid was staying in place. He then gently placed his hands on Tony’s cheeks and kissed his forehead.  
“I’m here to protect you silly. It’s my job to have this pressure. And I wouldn’t want anything more than for you to be safe and sound.”  
Tony began crying after that and Steve had thought about maybe calling Natasha. Or maybe Tony’s college friend Rhodey. Maybe they had some advice on this.  
He still considered calling them as Tony slept on his chest, plastic, and paper from the bandages still on the edge of the bed, almost forgotten.  
The next evening they had gone rollerskating along the street. The man at the gas station looked at Tony funny and eyed his eye makeup and bandages along his wrists.  
“It’s from fighting a bear!” He said, hands up in a box fighting position and Steve had to drag him out.  
They drank their slushies and shared some Nerds candy outside. It was getting late. Tony should be getting home soon.  
“Stay over?”  
Steve looked at Tony who had his eyes concentrated at the cars parked around them.  
“I gotta feed my cat, Tones. Maybe tomorrow though.” He really wanted to. Sleep over. Because Steve was afraid. Of leaving Tony by himself.  
“Bring him over?”  
Steve had ran into Yinsen right before they had left. He had to hand it to the man because he somehow could tell. He had personally asked Steve if he would give them some space tonight.  
Steve shrugged and slurped his slushie.  
“I don't ...Yinsen wants to talk.”  
Yinsen never talked when Steve was there. They had conversations, but the older man liked having Tony privately with him when they spoke of more serious things. He found it rude to make Steve wait outside or in another room.  
“Then you should talk to him.”  
Tony let out a shuddering breath and Steve could see a few tears fall. Tony made an attempt to scratch at his bandaged wrist but stopped short. He got up, getting his balance under him and looked down at nothing.  
“I..Look I know you still love me, and I know that you’re not gonna come with me because you hate me but because you know I should talk to Yin and plus Furn needs you, like I know but-” Tony covered his eyes with his hands and Steve, who had shoved his skates off, was standing in front of him in just his socks, nuzzling his head.  
“I can walk you home?” He finally said after Tony calmed down.  
He contemplated that for a bit, Steve could tell. Could tell the gears working themselves in that head of his of all the possible outcomes. But he shook his head and took a big deep breath in and then out.  
In through your nose, out through your mouth.  
He looked at Steve with his smeared purple eyeshadow and gave him a tight smile. He pecked him on his lips whispered a quiet “I love you” and pushed off of him. Steve watched him go off into the sunset, skating up the road and eventually, with his hands out, gliding down.

*****

It was Tony’s stupid uncle that wasn’t really his uncle.  
The stupid old fucked up of a man who still had ties to Tony and the money and who wanted to get both Tony and Yinsen out of the way so he could get all of Stark’s everything!  
Steve was so mad he swore he could crush a building with just his fists.  
He didn’t though.  
All for the bundle right next to him, wrapped in a thick wool blanket attached to medical equipment. He tugged Tony tighter against him as he imagined what he would do to Obadiah Stane. That’s not what hero’s thought. But fuck this man.  
He wanted to hurt him.  
Terribly.  
They had let their guard down.  
Yinsen was already gone, supposedly at a conference when Tony had gone missing three weeks before. At the time, there were no threats. No suspicious people. Not a sound. He was supposed to have a meeting with possible investors, and Tony almost being of age to take over the company, had joined Obadiah. He was in his suit and tie and wore no makeup. He wanted to look “like them” he had said. It didn’t stop him from tying his rollerskates up tight and skating to the nearest coffee shop where the meeting was being held. Steve remembers watching him go, black shoes dangling off of his backpack full of notes and supplies. He had been so excited to go too.  
Had repeatedly told Steve that he would be fine.  
“It’s just Obie”  
That had been the last time he saw him.  
Fucking bastards.  
They were sent a tape. That’s how they found him. Somehow, they were able to grab Tony and smuggle him across the country and force him to make them weapons of mass destruction. When they had realized that keeping him alive was a lot better than killing him, they had sent a video.  
To Obadiah Stane.  
Basically saying that “Nope, not gonna kill him. Send us a lot more money first and we’ll think about it you moron.”  
The intern, Pepper, had figured it out. It was funnily enough sent to her own danm email, and grace the Gods above that she knew a friend who spoke the language because she was able to translate it, contact Steve, and have a rescue team fly out there and get Tony.  
Natasha and Clint led a team to capture Obie.  
Despite wanting to be there, wanted to be the one to lead the team for once in taking down this fucked up person, he was told no.  
Fuck them.  
Because Tony needed him more.  
Fuck them for being right.  
In the future, when things are slow in the late afternoon and the sun is out and hot, Natasha will comment and say, “You know, you used to say fuck a lot.”  
And Steve will reply, “Language.” and sip his tea. 

They found him in the desert.  
And found out that Yinsen never made it to the conference.  
He had a gaping hole in his chest and was struggling to breathe. He had mumbled something about a car battery and shrapnels, it keeping him alive.  
At just eighteen years old, Tony got himself out of a hostage situation, made an iron suit, and saved himself. Incredible right?  
That’s what Steve kept telling him during the hospital stay. How incredible he was, how amazing and strong and how much he loved him. He didn’t stop until Tony told him to shut up and asked for his cassette player and some headphones.  
Steve tried not to take it too personally. Tried not to be upset when he found out Obidiah was now dead, shot right in the head by good ole intern Pepper. (Get her a goddamn job!)  
Tried not to dwell over not protecting Tony and being there for him and for fucking up his one fucking job---  
He got over it when Tony reached for him and pulled him onto his tiny hospital bed. 

A few days after everything, Tony had called for a press conference and made a very big decision. Everyone told him he was being irrational, too impulsive, that maybe he could just wait a while and think about this, please??  
But Steve knew he did think about it.  
Laying there in the hospital for days and days not saying a word. Headphones on his head with the music blaring loud. Steve remembers curling next to him after Tony offered another pair, and together they listened to almost everything.  
That’s where he learned the importance of music. Steve didn’t know of it until he met Tony.  
To the doctors and agents around him, Tony wouldn’t say a word. But Steve could understand the language Tony was saying through the type of music he would play. How his still blood crusted fingers would switch the tapes after certain songs and how there was barely a moment of silence. Yeah, during this time, Steve knew what Tony was saying. And thinking.  
He thought this through. No more weapons. No more. No. More. 

Everything..may happen?..for...

*****

It took time.  
Steve would never say this out loud, but he never got his old Tony back. It’s not a good or bad thing. It’s just something he’s noticed as they aged. He left a part of himself in that cave. A huge part of his life changed when he got back. Things were different now. More different than before.  
And it took a lot of time for him to feel better.  
They ended up moving in together at Steve’s old apartment. Tony didn’t have a place to go after...and he really didn’t want to be alone, so. They kept Tony’s bed, and his posters, and all of Jarvis’s pots and pans and cutlery and kettles and tea sets and dishes. They moved Steve’s plants around, and Furn got used to the extra furniture and all of Yins and Tony’s books. It wasn’t a happy move. Stressful and long because Tony could still barely move. And he ended up buying a downstairs apartment and renovated it into a type of workshop where he could build in a place he trusted, while also being with Steve. It was a long couple of days. A long month.  
Eventually.  
Tony became Iron Man. And because of that, Steve became Captain America again. Like hell was he going to let Tony go off by himself to defend the world. He would always protect Tony, no matter what. That was his job.  
They weren’t as compatible on the field as they were in real life. Funny how that worked. They’re partnership and team took time and a lot of work, but eventually, with still a few hiccups, they got there.  
And in the future, when they have officially retired, their son would joke around on his youtube channel or blog and introduce them finally to the world as his super gay dads. Because they’re superheroes and they’re gay.  
  
But before that. But still after Thor and Loki, and meeting the Hulk, and creating the team, Tony and Steve decide to go out on a date. Something not too serious, not like a fancy dinner. Something like old times. Tony had suggested roller skating. Roller Skating around the neighborhood together, like they used to.  
Steve knew Tony hadn’t picked up his skates since that time.  
He, cautiously, agreed.  
So the two put on their old skates and pushed off the metal fence. As all things do, it took them some getting used to, but in no time was Tony gliding and looping around the road, with Steve watching. They both skated up the hill and stopped right before the drop. Tony raised his arms to balance himself and Steve followed.  
In later years, when the whole family could do this, they’d hold hands and have contests on who could get to the bottom the fastest.  
Now.  
Together.  
Arms raised to balance, they pushed off and floated down the road. They almost lost control. Almost fell. But at the right moment, their hands found each other, and both were able to slow down and make the perfect turn.  
They both were laughing. They could’ve died.  
But they didn’t. And they were together.  
And it was perfect.  
And Steve thought. And felt.  
And asked why. Why do some things happen? And somethings don’t? And why do some things fall into place?  
Everything. Happens. For. A. Reason.  
Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t.  
It didn’t matter.  
The important thing was living this life right now. And loving this person right now.  
And that was all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated <3
> 
> Hi from a year later  
if it wasn't obvious I wrote this very late at night and barely edited any of it. 
> 
> Still hope you enjoyed <3 ;D


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